A Moment of Eternity
by Silly-Billy472
Summary: You see Him, in the pictures. The one that could have been. The one that should have been.


A Moment in Eternity  
  
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. They don't know how right they are. Your life is just a thousand upon a thousand words in pictures.  
  
You open the book and you see Him. He was the one that could have been, that should have been.You don't matter to Him. You never did. But He was the world to you.  
  
Do you remember the first time they moved? The pictures. It was a miracle, like a mini-movie captured on a piece of paper. You thought it was the coolest thing ever.  
  
Only now you don't.  
  
You heard all the stories about Him, and you knew exactly what He would be like. Strong and brave, loyal to the last, a true friend. The kind of person you wanted to be. And you knew He would be a friend. How could he not? He would be the sort that always wore a smile and was the first to laugh, of that you were sure. But now you look at the pictures again, and you remember.  
  
You turn the page, a page in your life, and move on.  
  
You saw Him, and He was everything you dreamed and more. You watched Him fighting Malfoy and His gloriousness radiated. You watched Him soaring through the air amidst the deafening cheers and He was beautiful like nothing else. You watched Him eating breakfast, eyes green with thoughts that you would never know.  
  
You saw Him—in the pictures. But mostly He flinched and He cringed and He inched away and you waited for Him to smile.  
  
And then He did. And you saw Him seeing you.  
  
You look at it again. The picture that broke your heart. And you remember. And time begins to run, twisting and unravelling in your memory, because what does it matter what is real and what is not because you have seen it and are seeing it and was and it is always will be.  
  
A forced smile, patient, for the flashing light-bulb and the clicking shutter, the Camera-Boy that is always in the way, a test of His endurance.  
  
He turns, and He walks on to conquer whatever evil awaits Him and fight whatever battles He must fight, and at the end of the day He will smile at His friends and you won't be there to see it.  
  
You accepted it and you forgave Him, because He was the great one that would save us all. You lived your life, and worried about grades and girls, but it didn't change that facts. He was supposed to be a friend. And now you sit here remembering that He was the one that could have been. The one that should have been.  
  
And now the pictures are of friends and family and laughing and school and you remember you were lost and you are drifting and empty and you are alone and there is nothing to love and live for and you need to see Him again, He is the only thing you can count on to always be there because you know He will always be Him.  
  
And so He comes back into the pictures, but the pictures stopped moving. And you wondered what you ever thought was beautiful in the movement, because now you could see eternity. You could freeze a moment in time, and you could still see Him as He was that very second, and His smile never wavered, even if you knew that it was not for you. It was enough.  
  
And now you are at the final pages, the end, and you feel dizzy with remembering because this was truly a beginning, a beginning of an end. For you.  
  
And it was in these moments of eternity that you call pictures, that you began to see Him. You really, really, began to see Him, as no one else did. The world saw the great one, the noble one, who would die for his friends and his people. The kind of person they called a hero.  
  
You stare at the pictures, not really looking at them. You already know them, every one of them, every little detail. And time begins to run together, then is now, the pictures are now. He is now. And in your mind you remember and you see him, see him as you saw him in the pictures.  
  
You see a boy with green eyes bright with darkness, whose hatred has spilled into his heart, whose anger burns with emerald flames that are licking away at His innocence. And He kills and hurts because He has been killed and hurt. He is nothing but an empty soul who has nothing left to live for but what He was born to live for. He knows the true meaning of a hero, and you see it in His eyes. A hero is someone who can give up His dreams and let His friends do the same, and then watch these friends die and murder because He asked them to. And then the hero must go on, because heroes never give up.  
  
You turn the page one more time and you remember. The last picture you ever took. This picture does not move. There is no darkness in His eyes, but neither is there light. They are blank and painless. And you think, yet again, how beautiful He is, with those emerald eyes and His dark hair, His strong nose and broad shoulders, down to His pale, slender white hands, streaked crimson with the blood of a heart that will beat no more.  
  
And it hurts like it is now because it is now and forever and finally you cry. For you, for Him, for all the lives lost. For the boy that could have been, that should have been. For the hero that finally got tired and gave up. He failed you. Again. 


End file.
